Read Chapter One: Here
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CHAPTER 2: FIRST DOWN
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ZONE: REGION SIX
CHRONOMETER: 1811 HOURS REGION 7 TIME, FEBRUARY 20, 2032
There was a thunderous crack in the hot air at Region Six, Section 4. A .50 calibre BMG exited from a gun’s barrel, pressure forcing the case to eject from the bullet itself. It was the eighth shot for the day and trainee Lee still did not hit the watermelon target 2100 metres away. The projectile left a vapour trail in the air, showing a clearly deviated motion path to the watermelon. It was the best shot Lee made, approximately three inches from the watermelon.
Region Six was mainly a large mass of land spread across the equator of the earth. It was a sand field of unmercifully sweltering heat during the day. Section 4 on the other hand was the MetroPolice Training grounds and it was an unforgiving place. Worse still, donning the MK13 standard issue bullet resistant suit made the training even worse.
Lee was cursing through his sweat. Once again he pulled back the bolt to reload the .50 calibre bullet, locking the bullet into place and pushing the blot back in with a click. Lee turned to his spotter and at the same time, trainer; Kalashnikov who was using a much more powerful scope than the sniper rifle Lee was using.
“You need estimation Lee, estimation. In Region Six, it might be hot, but it is actually the best condition for sniper firing. Section Six, firstly, is located in the equator, that ultimately means that you can ignore the Coriolis effect unlike in the North and South Regions. Secondly, there is hardly any moisture to affect your accuracy and also the air is hot, meaning that it is less dense, allowing your fifty calibre bullet to tear through the air. Give me the rifle and I’ll show you how.”
Lee shifted from his prone position. The modified MK13 suit was camouflaged to the desert colour, and as they changed positions, it just looked like shifting sand. They were using an S21 Heracles sniper rifle with exceptional barrel length of 40 inches to increase muzzle velocity. It was bolt action, making more moving parts redundant, and simultaneously, reducing the weight of the rifle itself. It was a powerful .50 calibre rifle with a muzzle velocity of 3000 feet per seconds and capable of firing at 2000 metres away with the accuracy of 3 Minute of Arc, unlike the MetroPolice urban warfare rifle DMR8 which can produce an accuracy of 1 Minute of Arc, capable of firing at a 100 metre distance target the size of 1 inch. The accuracy in the S21 had to be sacrificed for power and much marksmanship is required especially when the scope was not designed for bullet drop compensation. It was a rugged sniper rifle and requires less cleaning and maintenance for as long as 190 shots.
Kalashnikov took over the rifle from Lee and he handled it competently, adjusting his cheek to the slightly raised cheek piece then adjusting his shoulder to the stock.
“Make your gun an extension of your body. Feel comfortable with it. Refrain from getting your attention diverted. Once you’ve got your eye adjusted to the sights, do not ever look up until you’ve fired your shot. See the reticle in the middle and focus on your target. At such distances, the reticle is not always on the target itself, but rather a small distance from the target. Since gravity is a major factor, always aim slightly above your target, then look out for wind direction and take into account the Coriolis effect if you’re not in Region Six. Take your time and wait. Do not be pressured to fire a shot. You only have the opportunity to fire once, if you miss, you’re as good as dead. Though the enemy might not hear the crack of the rifle from 800 metres away, the bullet travelling at hypersonic speed will release a small sonic boom that is audible to the enemy. Remember, you need to estimate, wait and be patient. Once you’re confident enough and ready; then hold your breath – and may the force be with you.”
Kalashnikov bent to look though the reticle in the scope. He waited for a good ten seconds, then fired the projectile. It made a curve due to winds, but it reached the target perfectly, making a mess of the watermelon as juice splattered red on the desert sands. Kalashnikov smiled.
“One shot, one kill” he said. Lee was astounded. The maximum effective range of the .50 calibre BMG is 2000 metres but Kalashnikov managed to score a headshot with an extra 100 metres from the maximum effective range.
“God forsake sir. I haven’t seen anyone shoot like that before.”
“Private Lee, all you need is practice and experience. I went through the Apocalypse as a soldier-survivor. I’m not one of those who hid in the bunkers. You had to be good in every field to survive. Whether knives or guns. You don’t kill to kill. You kill to survive.”
“Crazy shit. What’s your secret?”
Kalashnikov rolled in the sand laughing.
“You want to know secret? You need discipline and … this,”
Kalashnikov pulled out a small flat bottle, rectangular in shape.
“Here’s the ultimate secret. Try some.” Kalashnikov chuckled.
Lee sipped at the small mouthpiece. Kalashnikov’s lips moved, supposed to say something, but was not fast enough. Lee spat the liquid he drank from the small flask, choking.
“I just wanted to warn you that that was a fully flavoured Jack Daniels scotch whiskey.”
Lee spluttered, still with the strong smell of alcohol in his nose, blushing red with embarrassment. “Alright,” he said, “give me the brandy, and I’ll try one more shot.”
“Your call” Kalashnikov winked.
Lee took one single gulp this time and squinted his eyes through the piquant taste.
“Ouch, how do you people like this shite. It tastes worse than rotten kimchi”
“Come on, it’s the elixir of life! What do you expect? Now, try the second watermelon. I’ll be your spotter.”
Lee repositioned his prone state at the S21 Heracles sniper rifle while Kalashnikov took up the high powered spotting scope. Lee’s eyes was aligned exactly at the reticle’s crosshairs. The whisky was somehow drowning the effect of the heat around him, allowing focus only on his spotter’s guides. Seconds later the tenth shot of the day rang out in the cloudless sky. This time it was a score for Lee. The bullet tore through the air right into the second watermelon. He threw his fist right into the air in joy.
“Excellent,” Kalashnikov clapped.
“Yeah, that’s my first.”
“You’ll need that skill when facing off with that cop-killer,” Kalashnikov said, his expression turning grim.
At that exact moment Kalashnikov’s phone rang.
“He’s in Region Seven. Confrontation at suburbs north of Section 4.” The voice crackled in the phone receiver and a click ended the call.
“Speak of the devil. Hurry. Let’s move. I need to get that bastard. Region Seven southern suburbs.” Kalashnikov hurriedly spoke.
Kalashnikov slung the rifle onto his back while Lee revved their quad-bike into life.
“The Grim Reaper huh? Lets rock and roll!” Kalashnikov said and the quad bike seared through the sand field, roaring towards the city.
***
ZONE: REGION SEVEN
CHRONOMETER: 2022 HOURS LOCAL TIME, FEBRUARY 20, 2032
The sunset’s beams were hot red upon the broken, makeshift walls of the suburbs. The hustle and bustle of the suburb low-life was usual, keeping time’s pace somehow at a state of comatose. Life was repetitious down there and every other day was just like the day before. Out of the lifeless city a dark figure emerged from the shadowed alleys, sweeping quickly across the streets.
Back in the Regional Police MetroQuarters back operations room, buttons were lighting up and a large screen displayed current status in the battlefield. People were busy on their computers, answering calls. Jackson stood tall amongst the crowd of workers, shouting orders. The four starred insignia on his epaulette clearly distinguished his high rank between the other police officers. Jackson was also known as Sir General Commissioner Jackson Black.
“Give me eyes, I need a visual on the target!” he barked
“Yes sir, UAV 45 is inbound. It’s loaded with anti-material rocket propelled grenade though. I recommend not to fire that on target. Collateral damage is too high in this populated town. Bad publicity for the government.” One of the men said from behind his messed desk.
“Understood. Deploy field operatives onsite. I want his head on my desk by tonight.”
“Team Bravo has been deployed ten minutes after witness had made the call sir. They are approaching target’s coordinates by chopper once the UAV 45 has locked on the coordinates. They can’t go in blind. We don’t know what we’re dealing with.”
“Excellent.”
The helicopter’s swirling blades rattled the weak walls of the suburbs area. The field operatives were wearing the full MK13 suit, including their safety helmets. Ten soldiers slid down the helicopter by a thick rope. The commander was wearing a red shoulder pad which extended further than his shoulders. He struck one two hands out in a waving manner. The entire group split into two. One group were a designated marksmen with rifles of sharpshooting capability.
“Into positions team. Team Bravo, on my go. Team Vulture, get into positions ahead of the coordinates uploaded from the UAV. Out.”
“Roger that. Moving out.”
The designated marks men team ran up onto the rooftops, since it was always connected, they could jump from one building to another without much sweat. Team Bravo moved in a formation with the Commander. Two units in the front of the formation were using automatic shotguns, while the three following behind were carrying assault rifles.
The unmanned aerial vehicle glided silently above them, like a watchful guardian, constantly uploading feeds back to the reconnaissance team at the MetroQuarters.
“We’ve got a visual on the target. Team Bravo and Vulture, at any point of contact, do not hesitate not to engage. He is in the building at your six o’ clock Team Vulture.”
The dark figure was indeed inside the building they mentioned. He ran across the small rooms and leapt across into the nearby house through the window and climbed inside. Four bullets from the designated marksmen slammed into the side of the window, barely missing him. One of them swore into his radio.
“Team Bravo, Team Vulture reporting in. target is moving further south. Intercept him before he reaches the sand field. We’ll lose him there if he buries himself inside the sand. Over.”
“Roger, we’ll proceed ahead. Team Vulture stick to your current positions. If possible, try getting a better vantage point. We might need back up.”
Team Bravo was moving fast, following the coordinates sent to them but the dark figure was getting drowned by the darkness of the evening. If he gets to the sand field, all he needs is to lie low and he’ll be secure. Out of nowhere the dark figure jumped out in front of the units carrying the shotguns, hitting them in the face with something hard and stunning momentarily. The three units holding the assault rifle fired shots harmlessly into the darkness. The alleys were narrow and he could disappear anywhere with relative ease.
The frightened civilians ran across the streets, seeking refuge in their homes or whatever refuge that was. Shutters were closed tightly and doors were locked securely. Now, it was easier to track the unknown figure down. It was one of him against ten of them. In the UAV’s infrared camera he was sticking out like a sore thumb. On a portion of their visors the video feed from the UAV was screened as a heads up display. Team Vulture took an even higher position, waiting for him to emerge from the buildings. Team Bravo was very close to the border of Region Six already, small samples of sand scattered across the narrow roads.
“Team Vulture, report in. Do you have a visual from your position? Over.”
“Negative commander. He is still inside the building from the last coordinates sent by the UAV. Over.”
“Roger that. Bravo One to Bravo Two and Three. Storm the building. Over.” The commander radioed.
“Order received. Proceeding. Over.”
The two soldiers holding the shotgun stormed the building where the figure was. From his hiding place he heard the sound of the night vision being turned on. His pupils were slightly enlarged as it got more used to the dark. He could see the illuminated “eyes” of the night vision. They passed him, his dark cloth blending with the surroundings. As soon as their backs were facing him, he dashed out of the old building from one of the windows, tripping by accident. The other three members of the Bravo Team sprinted across the streets, chasing after him. They keep firing, but missed. He kept running into alleys as soon as they caught him locked into their iron sights.
The small alleys had high walls and it kept him secure from the sharpshooters of the Vulture Team. He was swift in movement but he will be running to a dead end soon. He himself knew it. Unless he got across to Region Six fast enough he will be apprehended, or the worse possibility, shot dead. He stood near a wall and leaned for a moment, trying to fill his lungs with as much air as possible at the fastest possible time. He was already breathing so loudly he feared that even the UAV floating above him might hear that.
“Live feed from UAV suggests that target is stationary in the opposite block from you Team Bravo. Get there now!” Jackson shouted his order over the radio.
“Roger that sir. We’re moving out as fast as possible. There’s only three of us following him, two shotgun units are stranded in a building.”
“I cannot take incompetency or excuse for reasoning do you understand? There’s a cop killer out there. The more time you waste is more opportunity for him to take flight.”
“We understand sir. He’s on the move now. Our bullets can move faster than he can run.” The commander replied monotonously.
“Get it done, that’s all I ask.”
“Roger that.”
The black figure only had fifty metres as a distance barrier between him and the sand field. He drew out a knife. If there was a single possibility that he would be engaged with these special police force he would not want to die without a fight. His knife only had a killing radius of only three feet while the police sharpshooters can reach 500 metres accurately and the assault rifles could reach him at more than 30 metres away. As long as he kept to the narrow corners there was a high possibility that he can flee unharmed.
Ten against one. It was unfair play he thought as he ran faster, his heart pounding in his ears. He approached another corner and it led to another straight road, leading right into Region Six’s desert plains. Team Bravo was hot on his trail now and taking that road means his escape. The remaining ten metres suddenly felt like light years away.
Only nine metres left and the fatigue was tremendous as lactic acid flooded his muscles. Five metres left, then four, three, two, one ...
There was a loud crack in the air, out of the shadows thundering the desert plains as a .50 calibre bullet smashed though the sound barrier leaving behind a vapour trail. The bullet tracked its way into the hooded figure’s head, annihilating him immediately. There was blood everywhere. The immense pressure leaving the skull ripped the cranial bones apart as the entire skulls contents exploded, spilling everywhere. The after effect was tremendous. The entire atmosphere halted to a single stop, the crows taking flight in fright. All the occupants sat shivering in their squatters. Even the deployed police battalion were shocked.
“Report in, Team Vulture, did you engage enemy? I repeat, did you engage enemy? Over.” the commander’s voice crackled in the radio.
“No sir. That was a fifty calibre BMG. None of us are specialised in that calibre. Over.”
Jackson, amidst the bustling crowd of people in the reconnaissance team sat slowly on his chair with a sigh of relief. “He’s dead, people. The cop-killer is down. Tell our field operatives to stand down. The crime scene investigation team will be en-route. It is one of our men who took him out. Sniper unit; Kalashnikov. The man named after the pre-Apocalypse rifle, AK47. “
***
Initiating encrypted chat …
Secure chat channel engaged …
Chat participants: [P, S]
P: What happened to the delivery? Rendezvous on the previous night has been forcefully aborted with two of my men dead. This is merely the first delivery and I’m returned with disappointing results.
S: Apparently, I am facing the same predicament. Two of my underling’s were killed.
P: Do not regard my work as a comedy. I will not tolerate your incapacities.
S: I understand.
P: I need to know that you are worthy to the Seraphim’s cause. Prove it to me and I will consider not your liquidation.
S: Do not look into this matter emotionally. I have my skills that are vital to the Seraphim’s cause. Instead of sending the parts to you one by one, I’ll make a delivery of the entire machine tonight, personally.
P: You need to understand that we cannot let the others know about the machine. I cannot deploy my men to collect the materials from Region Three. It would involve a large team to surmount the aquatilisaraneus grandis and that would only attract unwarranted attention.
S: Fathomed.
P: I need to corroborate the delivery of the parts.
S: Understood. Sending over encrypted file of the machine.
Encrypted file transfer …
File transfer successful…
P: Verified. Thank you. I need to know how many men will you need for the process to occur flawlessly.
S: I need three men. Make sure they are fully geared in case the unknown figure arrives. Make sure they are capable of taking him down.
P: Leave that to me. I don’t think that figure might appear so soon. He was exterminated some time ago. If however he was not killed, he will be on the run. The cops are hot on his trail. Forensic experts are giving Jackson the results soon. They could send the whole platoon after him for all that I care.
S: I should then expect not to run into any setbacks. Is that true?
P: That should be correct to the evidences that I’ve been provided by the police.
S: Then, fault should not be of mine if the transaction does not occur impeccably.
P: You do not call the shots around here. You are merely Seraphim Elite number one. That leads you to the bottom of the food chain. You just need to prove yourself.
S: That will not be a problem. Tonight, I myself will complete the task.
P: Excellent. I will make contact with you tomorrow night.
S: Affirmed.
Initiating connection termination …
Chat logs deleted …
Chat session terminated.
***
“Sir.”
“Yes?” Jackson answered over the line.
“I think you will need to take a look at our findings.” Cartwright, the crime scene investigation team lead said, sounding very fretful.
“What is the matter? What does the DNA fingerprinting results elucidate? Anything substantial?”
“Negative sir. I cannot explain it over the phone. Please sir, you will want to see this.”
“I don’t do very well with post-mortem if that is what you wanted me to see.”
There was a light chuckle over the phone, despite the austere atmosphere, whatever atmosphere it is on the line.
“Wrong again sir. This is just a simple analysis and I want to explain it over here.” Cartwright got serious again.
“Alright. Take it easy, I’ll be getting the lead outta my arse soon.”
The conversation ended with a click. As usual, no one bothered about the significance of mutual politeness.
Little did Jackson knew that his blissful tone over the phone was going to be a complete contrast when he met with the simple facts Cartwright was going to throw to his face. Jackson went straight from his office without hesitation, a slight sense of doubt that they got the right person. It made him drip with a nervous sensation.
Through the darkness of the investigation lab, Jackson was a tall, looming figure, well-built, with a harsh scar on his right cheek. Cartwright was at a single corner, two small bags of evidence in his hands. He was short, but accompanied with a hard face that made him look like a criminal himself.
“DNA fingerprinting results negative?” Jackson inquired.
“No sir. I believe that DNA fingerprinting would be redundant. I made a hypothesis from two evidences. One, comes from Alleyroad 22, the other, from the suburbs near the south of Region Seven. What you see here is a kitchen knife.” Cartwright lifted a bag, it was a fully intact kitchen knife. Jackson took the bag slowly, examining it, as though doubting what Cartwright had just said.
“This, on the other hand, are knife shrapnel. The difference? The knife shrapnel is not a normal kitchen knife. This one is made from a more brittle substance, yet still adequately sharp enough to mortally wound your nemesis.” He continued.
“Brittle? Why would anyone want his knife to shatter easily?” Jackson, perplexed asked.
“I too was confused initially, but I found small traces of c4 plastic explosives in the surrounding area of Alleyroad. That could only indicate that he fitted the explosives into the knife, most likely the handle is utilised as a compartment for the explosives.” Cartwright explained.
“Son of a bitch! That snivelling bastard wants to inflict as much damage as possible.”
“Correct, but that is if he’s able to outperform your rifles from a distance. Remember, his weapons are merely melee based.”
Cartwright was frowning as he rubbed his chin, somewhat evident that he is hesitant to continue his isolation of both cases, afraid to make Jackson turn purple with anger.
“I hope that should be substantial consolation. Do you think that evidence is sufficient in proving that the two cases are not inter-related?” Jackson asked.
“Maybe.” Cartwright paused. “but based on my second findings, the first job done on the police in Alleyroad was a professional. He left no traces of finger prints while the other case, the person left a whole load of fingerprints on the walls as he took flight from your people.”
“Correct, but perhaps he did not expect us to hunt him down the second time, got careless and maybe even frightened.” Jackson commented.
“That could be another assumption. Still, if I were you, I would not get too complacent with the person you took down. He might still be out there, perhaps taunting you, laughing, watching, waiting.” Cartwright’s voice sounded grim.
“I don’t know what that bastard wants from us, no one has ever escaped the grasp of the police force before. For him to take such a desperate measure, there must be a more sinister reason behind his attacks.”
“With the new governmental election starting soon, we don’t know what these people are capable of doing. Maybe it’s one of the Seraphim organisation’s plans to take over the government from the police. Their network is massive, anything is possible.”
“Fucking Seraphims. What do they want? Another instance of Communism? This is madness!” Jackson’s point of rage was beyond mollification.
“Isn’t that the whole reason why they started the Apocalypse? They want control over the world, as cheesy as it sounds, they are serious at that. Damn rats, hiding during the Reconstruction but emerging when we’re the city has fully grown. Without your knowing, they already are taking jurisdiction over the police force.”
“I will never let that happen. Even if it means waging war against them.”
“We could start with killing the person that tried to take us down. The ghost.”
“Where can he be? What does he want? Who the hell is he?”
***
John’s armchair was empty tonight. It’s papers left as an incoherent mess throughout his table. The fireplace was left with the fire to crackle merrily, radiating the room with warmth. Something was different from the other white papers and empty forms. On his large teakwood desk sat a frayed and yellowing-paged journal. The opened paged revealed cursive writings:
“Condition your emotions to be fluid, or emotionless at any time. Control that gains you jurisdiction over your fears; the vital point of weakness in humanity. Like Mercury, the Roman God, volatile, erratic and mercurial, he changes shape as desired, a trick too cunning beyond imagination, no one can conquer you. Feed your nemesis with emotions that will blind them, then strike pre-emptively lest they recover.”
John was in his panic room, a heavily armoured and reinforced room that could withstand a blast from a nuclear attack. He looked at one corner, an automatic rifle was hung there and he smiled cynically at it.
***
Right above the rooftop of the highest point in John’s house, the clock tower a dark figure squatted, his cloak flapping silently in the wind. The hood was pulled back, as the figure held a head gear in his hand, but the darkness swallowed the features on his face.
“So it begins tonight.” He said in a young, yet austere voice.
His hand, concealed within lightweight steel gauntlets held the helmet up and slid his head into it, pulling the hood to conceal his helmet afterward.
From fifty feet above, he leapt far into the forests and started towards the central of Region Seven, which was inevitably bustling with its night life. The figure’s dark cloak contrasted a great deal against the city lights. Keeping close to the shadows as best as possible, he leapt right above to the rooftops, evading contact with unwanted people.
In no time, the dark figure swept across the city and across to Alleyroad 22, still at the rooftop of a building opposite the Regional Police MetroQuarters, exactly the same spot he was the previous night. This time, there was not a single soul in the dimmed alley. It lay quiet as death. Apparently the two knives he left on the wall of the police headquarters were still there, untouched by the forensics team.
Behind that wall was the headquarters’ armoury and it holds within a great deal of weaponry. In fact the almost the whole ground floor of the police headquarters was taken up by the first level of the armoury. The next level is contained in the basement where most of the armoured tanks were securely kept.
The figure stood noiselessly, keeping still as to that of a statue, making himself blend even more with the surroundings. He looked at his chronometer on his wrist’s touch display. It was close to eleven midnight. He waited, patiently, as every second ticked away. Something was about to happen. Something terrible, and he knew it, because he would be the cause of it. It was already 5 minutes past eleven, and the alley - as quiet as ever now. Still, he waited persistently.
A few seconds later a huge pickup truck manoeuvred its way into the tight alley, followed by a police patrol car. A man in expensive bomber jacket and jeans got out of the truck and walked towards the patrol car as two police officers got out. There was a brief exchange of words and the two officers, both wearing their MK13 battle armour. The man in his bomber jacket was wielding a submachine gun, while the two officers were using shotguns.
The figure laughed quietly to himself. “Why the guns?” he thought.
They looked shaky, trying to accomplish whatever they were there for as hastily as possible. The two officers were to check the contents of the truck and then allow it to illegally gain access to the weapons depot.
The truck’s cargo compartment hissed as the hydraulics opened the doors. One officer hurriedly stepped inside, checking the contents while the other stood guard with the man in the bomber jacket outside. The temperature dipped lower as time ticked every second away. The darkness, even more apparent.
The figure’s eyes glowed a bright green through the blackness of his hood. His eyes darted from within, trying to catch their movements in the dark. The second police officer emerged from the truck as he nodded to the two men standing outside, giving a thumbs up at the same time, indicating approval of the contents inside the truck.
“Let’s finish this piece of shit before that idiot comes to screw our asses up.” One police officer said.
“I’m not exceptionally sure about your ass, but I’ve got mine covered.” The man in the bomber jacket patted his submachine gun. “Man stopping bullets, incendiary tipped. I’m not the one using tardy pump-action shotguns.”
“Yeah, incendiary-fucking-tipped like I care. If we don’t finish this here and now he’ll fry us like steak you jackass.”
“Do you know who I am, you fucktard?”
“I don’t give a damn even the fact you’re an elite. You’re not God, so get your goddamned ass moving.”
The atmosphere became fiery as the cop and the man in the bomber jacket held their weapons against each other. Menacingly.
“Cut it out you two! Lets finish the job brother before it’s too late!” the other officer tried to diffuse the situation.
“Fuck off brotherfucker. This is not your business.”
The hooded figure folded his arms, watching with a sinister smile on his unseen face. Fools. They don’t even know that I’m not going to even waste my sweat today, he thought. His eyes focused on the wall where he planted the two knives earlier on.
“Ladies and gentlemen, let me present today’s show, Fireworks!” he said quietly to himself.
With that, he shouted through his mask as a hollow and shrill scream erupted throughout the silence. The three men’s burly figure suddenly shrunk like flaccid seeds. They tightened their grip on their weapons as their anger quickly turned to fear. They looked around, but the sound never came again.
“I don’t see anything dammit.”
“That’s because you’re not God”
Just behind them the two knives from the wall exploded. It claimed a small portion of the wall, but the damage was not extensive. The three men looked behind, unscathed.
“Fuck it! Run!”
They dropped their weapons as they took flight, trying to get into the armoured police vehicle. Too late. Sentry guns emerged from the wall along the alley. The multi-barrel guns fired a rain of bullets on the entire alley, tearing through the truck’s metal. Multiple bullets ramming into the bodies of the three men, penetrating through even the MK13 armour. Blood splashed on the wall as their bodies were ripped apart from the barrage of hot lead. The guns stopped as soon as it had started, leaving a trail of blood and badly scarred metal.
The figure stood above, unmoving. His hand then pushed the hood back, then he took out his helmet. The face, a silhouette against the dark sky. He smiled, then his lips move slowly, whispering, “Feed your nemesis with emotions that will blind them, then strike pre-emptively lest they recover. Fear.”
Showing posts with label the last decree of honour. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the last decree of honour. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Last Decree of Honour: Chapter 1
Read Prologue here.
____________________
CHAPTER 1: REVELATIONS
____________________
ZONE: REGION SEVEN
CHRONOMETER: 0839 HOURS LOCAL TIME, FEBRUARY 20, 2032
“My gratitude sir. 1000 Units is way above the normal tipping rate.” The waiter of the famous local Transcend Diner said.
“Don’t fret. I’m in my Friday mood.” John smiled.
“Ah, I see. May I get you anything else sir? Well, of course, anything apart from the eighth cheeseburger you’ve ordered.” The waiter replied with another smile.
“Well, the latte would do fine. Make it two please.” John paused, “Yes, please do get me the manager and tell him I need to complain about something.” He winked.
“As you wish sir.”
John looked around the humble ambiance of the diner. So simplistic yet so prosperous; he thought. Perhaps people these days knows how to appreciate the value of simplicity. All this never occurred before the Apocalypse. In the year 2015, there was an organisation of people who called themselves the Seraphim. They believed that the peace of the world was held in the balance of those who ruled with nuclear power. It is they who decide who lives and who does not with a turn of a key and the click of a button. America ruled sovereign over the world with their legion of undefeatable armies and the arsenal of nuclear weapons. Though other countries had nuclear warfare capabilities, none were of equal match to that of America.
The Seraphims then believed, should this – Power be eradicated off the face of the earth, it would be impossible to wretch peace. It was a small secretive organisation of commandos. They were perfect fighters and incredibly smart people. They were savvy in what they did and never failed a single mission due to their guerrilla warfare tactics. Their ultimate mission is to destroy every nuclear plant and facility. Assassinate every nuclear scientist. Destroy the blueprints of nuclear warheads, weaponry and facility. They knew there will be collateral damage, but it was far beyond what anyone had imagined. The destruction of nuclear facilities mostly led to the radioactive leakage or unwarranted nuclear fusions. Sometimes the overload of plants lead to the destruction of countries. But it was worth it, so to speak. No one ever knew how to build nuclear weapons no one can access any nuclear devices. No one could ever possess a weapon of mass destruction. Everything was obliterated within a period of devastation in a mere five years. The short epoch that followed was a peaceful one, where fear kept the people away from any wars. Indeed, billions of life had been lost from the Seraphim’s course of actions. No one wanted anything to trigger another response from the Seraphim again.
The name “Seraphim” is the ranking given to the most supreme angels in heaven, they used this to symbolise their power and their good intentions. Alas, the integrity of the Seraphim organisation faded with time. It became larger and the members were nothing but power-hungry people. They had become mafia-like gangs and the original reason was lost beyond measure.
“Lord Jonathan Delacroix,” a woman’s voice cut short John’s train of thoughts. “It’s a surprise people like you would come here.” It was the manager. She was a tall angular woman with high cheekbones and green eyes. John trained his eyes at her. She was about her late twenties, he guessed. She was wearing a white blouse and a pleated jean miniskirt. Simply said, she looks rather pretty, John thought.
“I’d say, it’s crazy to know the manager is a ‘she’ instead of a ‘he’,” He paused a moment, still looking at her standing arms akimbo. She was clearly getting impatient with him. “Take a seat and have a cup of coffee. It tastes good.” He gestured very gentlemanly towards the empty seat in front of him. She sat and said with a laugh, “Of course it is! I was the one who made it. Now, what is the problem? Your food?”
“I did not even ask; what is your name?” John asked, purposely evading her question.
“Its Eleanor and I’m working for my dad here. Earning money from an honest day’s work isn’t as easy as government people. The police these days, I don’t even know what they’re up to.” Eleanor was indirectly saying that to John. The police is the government of all the Regions.
“I’m still trying to look for a cheap room to rent. That’s how bad huh?” she continued.
“An affordable room to rent, you mean?”
Eleanor sighed, rolling her eyes. She even forgot her real purpose of being called to the table.
“I know some lodging around this area, and yes, it’s affordable not cheap,” He said.
“And?”
“And right after your work here today I’ll bring you to that area. Charmed?”
“But ...”
“Good! I will get things ready and, you’ll give me a call once you’re done here, alright?”
“Uhh ..”
“Okay, I’ll be waiting for it.”
She was speechless. “You really are insistent aren’t you? Well, let’s hope that’s a good thing because I’ll be needing that room. Anyway, thanks for helping. I really can’t do without help these days.” She acquiesced.
John continued to stare at her with his crooked smile, his eyes transfixed at her bangs.
“Well, how do you think I got up through the ranks of the police force? Insistence.” He said.
Their conversation was stopped short as everyone craned their necks to the television screen at the corner of the diner. It was breaking news and the newscaster started to speak, “We’re sorry to interrupt your current television programme, but there has been a report of two brutal killings of police officers this morning. The irony is; the occurrence of this disturbing event was just behind the Regional Police Metroquarters, Alleyroad 22. Witnesses said they heard an explosion inside the alley but did not proceed further to check. Approximately ten minutes later, they saw a figure emerge from the ally, donning a grim reaper-style hooded cloak and screaming in an inhuman voice. Halloween? But its only February. The macabre look on the figure scattered witnesses as it glided away into the darkness of the night. If he wanted to build a reputation, we believe he already has accomplished it. Some say the figure is not even a man and is a nasty trick someone is trying to play. Here is one of the pictures taken by the witness,” the screen changed to show a ghastly-looking figure. The newscaster continued, “The police task force is currently trying to pursue the attacker and would appreciate anyone who is willing to provide information. Investigation has revealed that the two officers were killed without the usage of any firearms. Apparently, this is all for the breaking news. Please enjoy your day.” With that, the current program came back on.
The whole diner started to fill with hissing sounds as people whispered about the enigmatic figure. Who is he? What is it? What does it want? A grim reaper? A whole series of questions erupted from every corner of the previously quiet diner. Who would be audacious enough to confront the police force like that?
“Foolish bugger I’d say. He’s got the craziest arse in the region, having the cheek to kill two policemen. Whoever did that is trying to mess with the government and that would be suicide.” John shook his head.
“I was thinking the same, but, funny, as I saw the picture of that grim reaper, it sent a chill up my spine. I felt as though it was not even human.” Eleanor said, lowering her tone.
“Let’s just hope he does not kill me okay?” John laughed.
“Hey, are you mad? This is not a joke! You are indeed in the police force. This could happen to you anytime, especially when you’re right at the top of the ranks.”
“Don’t you worry, I’ve got Sentinels to provide cover, this joker would not even dare come close to me.” John was referring to the police Sentinels. The Sentinels are police officers too. But they are highly paid by certain people to be hired as bodyguards. They are most competent fighters and accurate marksmen. Those who hire them will be ensured superior protection. Sometimes they are even utilised to be assassins.
“Well, I hope they are competent enough against this grim reaper, because if he is able to take down two police officers without using guns, we don’t know what else is he capable of doing.” Eleanor said.
“Ellen, don’t you worry now, alright?” John tried to mollify her as he stood. He was about to leave already. “This person might just be another Sentinel and he was ordered to kill the two police officers. He is just one guy, I have four Sentinels, alright? I’ve got to go now. The police is going to need my help.”
“Alright then. I’ll give you a call once I’ve packed. And one more thing,” she paused.
“Don’t call me Ellen again.”
John turned back as he was walking away, “I’ll remember to keep that in mind Ellen.” He smiled and walked away.
It’s funny how fast you can be acquainted to people these days; he thought and walked out of the diner, remembering the table he sat at just now – table 5.
***
Eleanor walked up to the double doors of the kitchen. She pouted her lips and made a detour to the bathroom instead. Crazy person she thought. Someone like John would not have come to this type of places. A lowly diner like this? John has obtained the Lord rank in the police task force. He should have a class above the normal citizens. She looked into the mirror. Worst thing that came to mind is – John is a weaponry expert, a technological weapons engineer. The guns, cannons and bombs that he made – all for the purpose of diffusing a person’s life like a spark in the wind. John – she pictured his face again. Yes, he is indeed handsome, well-built and in his mid twenties; but she has always held to the principle that looks are not everything. Crazy, she thought to herself again. “Why am I even thinking of this? It is preposterous!” she said out loud. Am I falling for this bloke? She dismissed that thought hurriedly. Damn, dad must not find out I lacked just now – sitting down with some guy in his trench coat. He was even a gentlemen in his disposition. Thinking about it, she imagined looking at herself in third-person. “Oh my gawd!” she exclaimed out loud. Eleanor just realised that they looked like they were dating – but – in the morning? No, she dismissed that ridiculous thought again.
Eleanor still had her eyes peeled on her image in the mirror. Maybe I should turn down his offer. Yes, correct, turn down his offer, then all this dilemmas and confusion would be put behind her, she contemplated. But Ellen, no one has called her that before – a nickname! That is even more incredulous! But; at the same time it seemed cool, Ellen; it sounds nice too.
Her hands reached to touch her bangs lightly, then her palms ran down her head to her blond braids. Eleanor looks pretty, and she knows it, but her looks is inherently accompanied by her stubborn attitude of her refusal to admit to that fact openly. She was deep in thought now. Perhaps, just perhaps, maybe I am a little too paranoid. Paranoia tends to make people do silly things – like a police Lord coming down to this humble diner for a breakfast of eight cheeseburgers for example. He might be trying to drown his predicaments with cheese maybe. She chuckled at that thought. “Alright,” she whispered, “maybe I’ll just give him a chance.” After all, he was just going to offer me a room to stay in.
Confident after winning her inner debate she walked out of the bathroom. Looking down she cantered towards the kitchen, aiming to continue her job. Just before reaching the kitchen she bumped into a waiter. “Oh, hey, Eleanor! Who’s your new boyfriend there just now? Oh, and yea, what were you doing in that bathroom just now for ages?” he gave a cheeky smile.
“Don’t you dare mention any word about this to dad or anyone else in this world, you understand?” she pointed an accusing finger at the waiter, clearly blushing and brimming with insecurity.
“Or else?” the young waiter said, still keeping that mischievous smile.
“Or else, I’m going to ...” Eleanor couldn’t find anything to frame the waiter of. She sighed heavily.
“Alright, just don’t tell anyone about this okay? He’s just a demanding customer, that is all.” Her tone soften and turn to a pleading tone. The waiter, clasped his hand together, giggling.
“Don’t worry – Ellen. Or is that what that dude called you?” he said. Eleanor blushed tomato red this time.
“He tipped me a thousand Units, so perhaps I’m going to leave you alone. Happy?” he continued. Eleanor sighed a relived sigh this time and walked away to the kitchen, not saying a word for almost the whole day.
***
That pesky waiter would not be at the least try to disturb Eleanor, John thought driving his roadster back to his mansion. One thousand Units; not much on his side he thought, just for charity. The automated cast-iron gates opened to expose a magnificent tree yard of Flame-of-the-forest trees, leading to the entrance of his mansion.
Three sentry cannons aimed at the moving vehicle. It is always armed, but firing was never necessary. No one dared to walk into the boundaries of his home before. He stepped out of the car, as it was left on its own to park, courtesy of the MetroPolice Artificial Intelligence system. John walked into his house calmly, looking up at the overhanging chandelier. Anyone who did enter his house will be stunned at the expensive sense of grandeur his mansion carried. It was all paid for by the government. He looked straight. There were two curved stairs leading to the upper level and beneath that a small passage leading to his ostentatious dining room. Familiarity breeds contempt, however, and John is unperturbed by the grandeur of the house. The lobby had many portraits, but only one of these attracted him. John walked serenely towards that portrait, in a pensive mood.
It was a painting of the Earth, before the Apocalypse. There were many segments of the Earth, also known as countries. It was divided into seven continents; Asia, Africa, North America, South America, Antarctica, Europe and Australia. Countries in that period of time, before the Apocalypse were facing countless crisis. Earthquakes, adverse effects of prolonged pollution, melting of polar ice caps. The Earth was being treated in the most contemptuous way imaginable. The Seraphim destroyed most of the countries with the massive collateral damage courtesy of their eradication of nuclear power mission, people died from the ever exposure of radioactive substance.
Countries began fearing the chaos and started throwing what they can at each other in insecurity. It was the ultimate nuclear warfare ever known in the history of the Earth. World War Three had begun before anyone even noticed it. The Middle East countries were obliterated within weeks with their inhabitants; children, women, men, innocent and evil alike. America threw its entire arsenal of weapons and sent its legion of armies to the Middle East in fearful retaliation. In their terror, America devoured themselves, as the Seraphim leaders tore America apart with their own weapons. Other countries succumbed into war, some out of defence, most, out of fear.
Before the Seraphim strike, the Earth’s population was approximately recorded as an immense number of 6.725 billion, correct to the year 2008. That number drastically decreased, as people dropped like flies in the World War Three devastation. It came down to less than four billion people. The planet Earth could bear the devastation no longer. The inevitable occurred; planet Earth was fighting back and the Apocalypse was initiated. The earthquakes that started with Aceh Indonesia which caused a mega tsunami was just the beginning. The earth was going through a massive platonic movement. This started since the beginning of ages, during the epoch of dinosaurs, when the entire mass of land was merely a single continent, also known as the Pangaea.
By the year 2019, the earthquakes became more prominent in many parts of the world. Graphs on the Richter scales were tipped, achieving an average magnitude of 9.5. Continents were shattered, sandwiched, and combined. It became more evident that all the land masses in the planet were merging with each other. No one actually knew about this occurrence. There was only the shallow knowledge that earthquakes were occurring amidst the World War. Ignorance was due to the satellites being abandoned in outer space, without operation.
Not long after, the polar ice caps started melting. There was tremendous accumulation of heat in the atmosphere. Massive flooding occurred everywhere. Small pieces of land was consumed by water and the new Pangaea formed though platonic movement was flooded at all boundaries. Soon, there were no more countries, the population was then cut down to an insignificant amount of approximately 2 million.
The earth’s plates stopped moving, the flooding stopped and the World War Three was a lost cause. By 2024, the Apocalypse was over. The Apocalypse was the ultimate phenomenon that almost wiped out the entire human race. All was silent. All that was left was two million people on a giant mass of land. It was like stone age all over again. The Apocalypse, John thought, it was as though God’s hands were protecting him. John was one of the survivors from the Apocalypse. He is still haunted by his past, living with the question of his parents. Did they survive? Where could they be? A burst of anger erupted within him. If the Seraphim never did started their “Holy War” so to speak; none of this would have occurred - the Apocalypse would not achieve such a degree of devastation. He would not have been detached from his parents. John vowed to himself the day he was separated from his parents, that he will, in best of endeavour, assist in the reconstruction of the Earth.
“And that is just what I am going to continue doing. To heal the Earth.” He promised. Then wiping a single tear from his cheeks, he walked away silently.
***
The sun was already setting, casting a sinister glow of red on the walls of Transcend Diner. It was already seven in the evening and these warm beams penetrated the windows where Eleanor stood. Eleanor was at the end of her shift, dealing with the last few beverages that she was assigned to complete. She threw a hurried glance at her chronometer – 1904, it read. She cautiously let the saucer touch the counter and took the stairs to her miniature room upstairs. Her blond hair shifted swiftly as Eleanor turned to look at the mess she made from the clothes jammed halfway into her travelling bag. She sighed, arms akimbo. She picked up what was inside and left out what was outside, zipped it noisily and stumbled downstairs. Eleanor made a phone call to John’s mobile earlier and he was arriving soon.
The rumblings of a car rattled the grills of Transcend Diner. John arrived. Punctually. Eleanor grinned to herself in the car. “People like you ... they are usually bad time keepers.”
John smiled decently, then he spoke up for the first time in the car, “Well, at least I keep my watch working, that’s why.”
The car sped off to the highway towards the outskirts of Region Seven, where more trees covered acres of land. He approached the same automatic gate earlier on as the sentry guns geared their movement towards the car. John was bringing her to his home.
Eleanor got out of the car once it stopped and she frowned heavily. “Just because we had a little talk between you and me this morning, it doesn’t meant there’s something going on between us.” She said.
“I never had such notions in mind, young miss. You needed a place to stay. I have twenty five rooms in my house and even I can bi-locate myself, I can’t stay in all these rooms can’t I? Now, don’t hesitate and lets go in. The butler’s got dinner waiting.” John stuck her with infallible reasoning and she kept quiet, to concede and both walked into the dining room.
They were both seated at the dining table, filled with a small array of food.
“The Seraphim organisation. It’s intriguing. During my time – well, which is your time too, they were sort of like heroes, that was what we heard. During the days in the bunker, there was not much news about the happening above. All we knew was the Apocalypse was happening. Now, the Seraphim seems to be like rogues. What really happened to them – who are they?”
“Don’t be fooled Ellen. I was one of the few who lived with the Apocalypse instead of living through the Apocalypse. The Seraphim never did change. They were and always are rogues. Of course, during the Reconstruction, they stayed dormant because their numbers had dropped. You never did know how it was to live through the Apocalypse; scavenging, running to live. The Seraphim knew nothing of cleansing the earth. They were killing more people through their stupid ‘Holy War’ against the nuclear powers. Now, they have returned, finding their strength in numbers. God knows what they’ll do next. Bring the invasion of the aquatilisaraneus grandis? I’ll be damned. Their network is one hell of a large one to infiltrate.” He paused, taking a sip of well-aged Pinot Noir. “That would be the only reason why I am constantly trying to get the police to concentrate their forces on the Seraphim. The Seraphim is led by six leaders, called the Seraphim Elites. Get all of them, and you’ll get to the guy above all of them, shut his ass down and Seraphim will be dead.” he stopped, again pausing to nose the glass of wine. It was a perfect blend of fruity flavour.
“That would of course be not as easy as it sounds. With their people crawling all over, it would be difficult. Get one of them and the rest of the gang would take chase after your family and friend’s lives.” Eleanor spoke up.
“That won’t be too easy either. Especially when I do not have any friends, nor do I have any relatives. They are all dead from the Apocalypse.” John smirked, as thought it was not a big issue to contend with.
“Oh. I’m sorry. I guess I shouldn’t have venture into that area of discussion. I...”
“Well, it’s a good thing they’re dead. I could have more than enough good reason to take the members of the Seraphim into custody. I’ve got the law, and I’ve got no one to protect. That makes my job easier to accomplish.”
“You’re a crazy person. That is the only explanation to how you got your ‘Lord’ title.” She joked.
“Well, not exactly. I was just one of the few who were involved in the reconstruction. While the people stayed in the bunkers, after the Apocalypse, a group of people decided to recreate a government system, a government that was controlled by the police to ensure security, which of course is a greatly flawed system now. Since the entire masses of land had been integrated through the earth’s platonic movement, the government divided the whole land mass into segments and called it Regions. In all, like what we have today, are seven Regions and Region Seven is the only most developed part of the world. All our forces were concentrated into rebuilding the world and we started with Region Seven which was inadvertently caused to become the mid-land regions, where it was far from the sea. Generally, it was the much safer option to rebuild the city away from the mutated spiders or aqua-spiders which are made from the result of the radioactive leak. They were apparently able to withstand the radioactive poisons but they sooner developed a much bigger appetite than rats and small insects. Aquatilisaraneus grandis. There’s a reason why we called it by that name. In Latin, it basically means a spider that is massive in size and lives in the water. Of course, our population had decreased much more than before, so we do not occupy much land. The coasts however, are constantly unpopulated due to these five feet spiders. That is the only reason explicable that Region One, Region Two and Region Three, which all engirdle this entire landmass is still under the governmental lockdown.” John paused again. He felt like he just gave a speech in the local college’s lecture hall.
Eleanor, however was impressed with John’s knowledge. She was in awe, that he was one of the few who could be audacious enough to get into the open for the rebuilding of the earth. He was still in his late teenage years when he was already capable of undertaking such feats. Her impertinence of the police force suddenly dissolved in that dinner. Eleanor smiled to herself, watching John dive into his mountain load of spaghetti. John looked up, staring past his forkful of spaghetti noodles, seeing her smile.
“By the way, how old are you?” he asked cheekily, knowing well, that it was a sensitive question to women.
“I’m twenty eight. How old are you?” she blushed pink.
“Funny, I’m five years younger than you.”
“And that makes me?”
“Older than me – old, you’re getting old, and soon senile.” He mocked.
“Hey! Careful! I’m holding a fork and I might throw that at you!” she played along. Both laughed heartily.
The plate of spaghetti and meatballs were quickly devoured by John. He had an appetite and wasn’t the slightest bit embarrassed about it.
“Alright. Since you’re done, I’ll lead you to your room. I need to warn you though, it’s very cosy, if you do not decide to sleep yet, blast the stereos there. You can pay for my lodgings for 20 Units a month.”
She grinned in acknowledgement, as he carried her luggage across the dining room to the stairs in the lobby, leading to a narrow corridor. He led her to one of the rooms there. As he forewarned, it was tremendously cosy, a soft bed with a freshly crackling fireplace and a dimmed ambiance. One word. Suite.
Eleanor was in incredulity. She had never did been in such a lavish place, let alone sleep there. She frowned, then with her famous arms akimbo she turned towards John.
“What do you want from me? I don’t know what is up but, such affordable pricing for such a place? Well, if you’re thinking about sleeping with me, you can kiss that idea goodbye.”
John maintained his smile throughout, he replied softly, “Well, if that is what you think then that is fine with me. You may be a very attractive lady standing next to me, but I am not thinking of being a fool to make use of you or your body or whatever you think of. If you haven’t yet realised; there’s still good people in this corrupting world. Make today, make me an epiphany for your thought.”
Eleanor stood there dumbfounded, unable to argue. He was simply just too kind or he was a remarkable conman.
“Alright. You’re right this time; perhaps I should stop being so critical of you police guys. That is what my problem is.”
A sudden cold feeling ran up her spine. “John, what happens if that grim-reaper comes here? I just realised that that cop killer is still on the loose.”
“Now, don’t you worry. Did you not remember this morning I told you that I have four Sentinels guarding my house? They will keep this house and its occupants out of harm, you understand?”
“But I did not see any of them in your precincts just now.” Eleanor said, her voice slightly shaking.
“You don’t trust me?” he said.
“I do, but it’s just that if they ever come for you – or even me, I don’t know what to do.”
He brought her into the bedroom, then bending near the bed stand, he pulled out a fully automatic shotgun from under the bed. It was big, and psychologically, made the person that wielded it feel safe.
“Do you know how to use a gun?” he asked.
“Yes, but ...”
“Trust in yourself, and the gun. Do not fear the grim-reaper. He is just but a human, like you. Don’t be fooled by the media. He is a human.” He reaffirmed his point to her. Eleanor caressed the shotgun.
“We’ll see about that. It’s a little hard to regret later once I’m dead. Looks like I have to pump some lead into this little bastard before he reaches me.”
“By the way,” he threw her a key. It is the key to one of his cars.
“Goodnight then.”
“Goodnight”
She shut the door and locked it, then she turned towards the windows. It was sealed shut. With the slight buzzing sound of the sentry guns, securing the window area. Eleanor then returned to her bag of clothes. It was a mess. Nightdress. She left her nightdress at home. Damn it, she thought. Curious, she walked towards the wardrobe and opened it. There was a nightdress there, a few set of clothes and a bathrobe. “He just seems to be precognitive doesn’t he? I’ll be damned. First the waiter this morning, now this.” She smiled to herself, deep in thought. Then she walked towards the bathroom, took one last bath and went to a peaceful night’s slumber.
____________________
CHAPTER 1: REVELATIONS
____________________
ZONE: REGION SEVEN
CHRONOMETER: 0839 HOURS LOCAL TIME, FEBRUARY 20, 2032
“My gratitude sir. 1000 Units is way above the normal tipping rate.” The waiter of the famous local Transcend Diner said.
“Don’t fret. I’m in my Friday mood.” John smiled.
“Ah, I see. May I get you anything else sir? Well, of course, anything apart from the eighth cheeseburger you’ve ordered.” The waiter replied with another smile.
“Well, the latte would do fine. Make it two please.” John paused, “Yes, please do get me the manager and tell him I need to complain about something.” He winked.
“As you wish sir.”
John looked around the humble ambiance of the diner. So simplistic yet so prosperous; he thought. Perhaps people these days knows how to appreciate the value of simplicity. All this never occurred before the Apocalypse. In the year 2015, there was an organisation of people who called themselves the Seraphim. They believed that the peace of the world was held in the balance of those who ruled with nuclear power. It is they who decide who lives and who does not with a turn of a key and the click of a button. America ruled sovereign over the world with their legion of undefeatable armies and the arsenal of nuclear weapons. Though other countries had nuclear warfare capabilities, none were of equal match to that of America.
The Seraphims then believed, should this – Power be eradicated off the face of the earth, it would be impossible to wretch peace. It was a small secretive organisation of commandos. They were perfect fighters and incredibly smart people. They were savvy in what they did and never failed a single mission due to their guerrilla warfare tactics. Their ultimate mission is to destroy every nuclear plant and facility. Assassinate every nuclear scientist. Destroy the blueprints of nuclear warheads, weaponry and facility. They knew there will be collateral damage, but it was far beyond what anyone had imagined. The destruction of nuclear facilities mostly led to the radioactive leakage or unwarranted nuclear fusions. Sometimes the overload of plants lead to the destruction of countries. But it was worth it, so to speak. No one ever knew how to build nuclear weapons no one can access any nuclear devices. No one could ever possess a weapon of mass destruction. Everything was obliterated within a period of devastation in a mere five years. The short epoch that followed was a peaceful one, where fear kept the people away from any wars. Indeed, billions of life had been lost from the Seraphim’s course of actions. No one wanted anything to trigger another response from the Seraphim again.
The name “Seraphim” is the ranking given to the most supreme angels in heaven, they used this to symbolise their power and their good intentions. Alas, the integrity of the Seraphim organisation faded with time. It became larger and the members were nothing but power-hungry people. They had become mafia-like gangs and the original reason was lost beyond measure.
“Lord Jonathan Delacroix,” a woman’s voice cut short John’s train of thoughts. “It’s a surprise people like you would come here.” It was the manager. She was a tall angular woman with high cheekbones and green eyes. John trained his eyes at her. She was about her late twenties, he guessed. She was wearing a white blouse and a pleated jean miniskirt. Simply said, she looks rather pretty, John thought.
“I’d say, it’s crazy to know the manager is a ‘she’ instead of a ‘he’,” He paused a moment, still looking at her standing arms akimbo. She was clearly getting impatient with him. “Take a seat and have a cup of coffee. It tastes good.” He gestured very gentlemanly towards the empty seat in front of him. She sat and said with a laugh, “Of course it is! I was the one who made it. Now, what is the problem? Your food?”
“I did not even ask; what is your name?” John asked, purposely evading her question.
“Its Eleanor and I’m working for my dad here. Earning money from an honest day’s work isn’t as easy as government people. The police these days, I don’t even know what they’re up to.” Eleanor was indirectly saying that to John. The police is the government of all the Regions.
“I’m still trying to look for a cheap room to rent. That’s how bad huh?” she continued.
“An affordable room to rent, you mean?”
Eleanor sighed, rolling her eyes. She even forgot her real purpose of being called to the table.
“I know some lodging around this area, and yes, it’s affordable not cheap,” He said.
“And?”
“And right after your work here today I’ll bring you to that area. Charmed?”
“But ...”
“Good! I will get things ready and, you’ll give me a call once you’re done here, alright?”
“Uhh ..”
“Okay, I’ll be waiting for it.”
She was speechless. “You really are insistent aren’t you? Well, let’s hope that’s a good thing because I’ll be needing that room. Anyway, thanks for helping. I really can’t do without help these days.” She acquiesced.
John continued to stare at her with his crooked smile, his eyes transfixed at her bangs.
“Well, how do you think I got up through the ranks of the police force? Insistence.” He said.
Their conversation was stopped short as everyone craned their necks to the television screen at the corner of the diner. It was breaking news and the newscaster started to speak, “We’re sorry to interrupt your current television programme, but there has been a report of two brutal killings of police officers this morning. The irony is; the occurrence of this disturbing event was just behind the Regional Police Metroquarters, Alleyroad 22. Witnesses said they heard an explosion inside the alley but did not proceed further to check. Approximately ten minutes later, they saw a figure emerge from the ally, donning a grim reaper-style hooded cloak and screaming in an inhuman voice. Halloween? But its only February. The macabre look on the figure scattered witnesses as it glided away into the darkness of the night. If he wanted to build a reputation, we believe he already has accomplished it. Some say the figure is not even a man and is a nasty trick someone is trying to play. Here is one of the pictures taken by the witness,” the screen changed to show a ghastly-looking figure. The newscaster continued, “The police task force is currently trying to pursue the attacker and would appreciate anyone who is willing to provide information. Investigation has revealed that the two officers were killed without the usage of any firearms. Apparently, this is all for the breaking news. Please enjoy your day.” With that, the current program came back on.
The whole diner started to fill with hissing sounds as people whispered about the enigmatic figure. Who is he? What is it? What does it want? A grim reaper? A whole series of questions erupted from every corner of the previously quiet diner. Who would be audacious enough to confront the police force like that?
“Foolish bugger I’d say. He’s got the craziest arse in the region, having the cheek to kill two policemen. Whoever did that is trying to mess with the government and that would be suicide.” John shook his head.
“I was thinking the same, but, funny, as I saw the picture of that grim reaper, it sent a chill up my spine. I felt as though it was not even human.” Eleanor said, lowering her tone.
“Let’s just hope he does not kill me okay?” John laughed.
“Hey, are you mad? This is not a joke! You are indeed in the police force. This could happen to you anytime, especially when you’re right at the top of the ranks.”
“Don’t you worry, I’ve got Sentinels to provide cover, this joker would not even dare come close to me.” John was referring to the police Sentinels. The Sentinels are police officers too. But they are highly paid by certain people to be hired as bodyguards. They are most competent fighters and accurate marksmen. Those who hire them will be ensured superior protection. Sometimes they are even utilised to be assassins.
“Well, I hope they are competent enough against this grim reaper, because if he is able to take down two police officers without using guns, we don’t know what else is he capable of doing.” Eleanor said.
“Ellen, don’t you worry now, alright?” John tried to mollify her as he stood. He was about to leave already. “This person might just be another Sentinel and he was ordered to kill the two police officers. He is just one guy, I have four Sentinels, alright? I’ve got to go now. The police is going to need my help.”
“Alright then. I’ll give you a call once I’ve packed. And one more thing,” she paused.
“Don’t call me Ellen again.”
John turned back as he was walking away, “I’ll remember to keep that in mind Ellen.” He smiled and walked away.
It’s funny how fast you can be acquainted to people these days; he thought and walked out of the diner, remembering the table he sat at just now – table 5.
***
Eleanor walked up to the double doors of the kitchen. She pouted her lips and made a detour to the bathroom instead. Crazy person she thought. Someone like John would not have come to this type of places. A lowly diner like this? John has obtained the Lord rank in the police task force. He should have a class above the normal citizens. She looked into the mirror. Worst thing that came to mind is – John is a weaponry expert, a technological weapons engineer. The guns, cannons and bombs that he made – all for the purpose of diffusing a person’s life like a spark in the wind. John – she pictured his face again. Yes, he is indeed handsome, well-built and in his mid twenties; but she has always held to the principle that looks are not everything. Crazy, she thought to herself again. “Why am I even thinking of this? It is preposterous!” she said out loud. Am I falling for this bloke? She dismissed that thought hurriedly. Damn, dad must not find out I lacked just now – sitting down with some guy in his trench coat. He was even a gentlemen in his disposition. Thinking about it, she imagined looking at herself in third-person. “Oh my gawd!” she exclaimed out loud. Eleanor just realised that they looked like they were dating – but – in the morning? No, she dismissed that ridiculous thought again.
Eleanor still had her eyes peeled on her image in the mirror. Maybe I should turn down his offer. Yes, correct, turn down his offer, then all this dilemmas and confusion would be put behind her, she contemplated. But Ellen, no one has called her that before – a nickname! That is even more incredulous! But; at the same time it seemed cool, Ellen; it sounds nice too.
Her hands reached to touch her bangs lightly, then her palms ran down her head to her blond braids. Eleanor looks pretty, and she knows it, but her looks is inherently accompanied by her stubborn attitude of her refusal to admit to that fact openly. She was deep in thought now. Perhaps, just perhaps, maybe I am a little too paranoid. Paranoia tends to make people do silly things – like a police Lord coming down to this humble diner for a breakfast of eight cheeseburgers for example. He might be trying to drown his predicaments with cheese maybe. She chuckled at that thought. “Alright,” she whispered, “maybe I’ll just give him a chance.” After all, he was just going to offer me a room to stay in.
Confident after winning her inner debate she walked out of the bathroom. Looking down she cantered towards the kitchen, aiming to continue her job. Just before reaching the kitchen she bumped into a waiter. “Oh, hey, Eleanor! Who’s your new boyfriend there just now? Oh, and yea, what were you doing in that bathroom just now for ages?” he gave a cheeky smile.
“Don’t you dare mention any word about this to dad or anyone else in this world, you understand?” she pointed an accusing finger at the waiter, clearly blushing and brimming with insecurity.
“Or else?” the young waiter said, still keeping that mischievous smile.
“Or else, I’m going to ...” Eleanor couldn’t find anything to frame the waiter of. She sighed heavily.
“Alright, just don’t tell anyone about this okay? He’s just a demanding customer, that is all.” Her tone soften and turn to a pleading tone. The waiter, clasped his hand together, giggling.
“Don’t worry – Ellen. Or is that what that dude called you?” he said. Eleanor blushed tomato red this time.
“He tipped me a thousand Units, so perhaps I’m going to leave you alone. Happy?” he continued. Eleanor sighed a relived sigh this time and walked away to the kitchen, not saying a word for almost the whole day.
***
That pesky waiter would not be at the least try to disturb Eleanor, John thought driving his roadster back to his mansion. One thousand Units; not much on his side he thought, just for charity. The automated cast-iron gates opened to expose a magnificent tree yard of Flame-of-the-forest trees, leading to the entrance of his mansion.
Three sentry cannons aimed at the moving vehicle. It is always armed, but firing was never necessary. No one dared to walk into the boundaries of his home before. He stepped out of the car, as it was left on its own to park, courtesy of the MetroPolice Artificial Intelligence system. John walked into his house calmly, looking up at the overhanging chandelier. Anyone who did enter his house will be stunned at the expensive sense of grandeur his mansion carried. It was all paid for by the government. He looked straight. There were two curved stairs leading to the upper level and beneath that a small passage leading to his ostentatious dining room. Familiarity breeds contempt, however, and John is unperturbed by the grandeur of the house. The lobby had many portraits, but only one of these attracted him. John walked serenely towards that portrait, in a pensive mood.
It was a painting of the Earth, before the Apocalypse. There were many segments of the Earth, also known as countries. It was divided into seven continents; Asia, Africa, North America, South America, Antarctica, Europe and Australia. Countries in that period of time, before the Apocalypse were facing countless crisis. Earthquakes, adverse effects of prolonged pollution, melting of polar ice caps. The Earth was being treated in the most contemptuous way imaginable. The Seraphim destroyed most of the countries with the massive collateral damage courtesy of their eradication of nuclear power mission, people died from the ever exposure of radioactive substance.
Countries began fearing the chaos and started throwing what they can at each other in insecurity. It was the ultimate nuclear warfare ever known in the history of the Earth. World War Three had begun before anyone even noticed it. The Middle East countries were obliterated within weeks with their inhabitants; children, women, men, innocent and evil alike. America threw its entire arsenal of weapons and sent its legion of armies to the Middle East in fearful retaliation. In their terror, America devoured themselves, as the Seraphim leaders tore America apart with their own weapons. Other countries succumbed into war, some out of defence, most, out of fear.
Before the Seraphim strike, the Earth’s population was approximately recorded as an immense number of 6.725 billion, correct to the year 2008. That number drastically decreased, as people dropped like flies in the World War Three devastation. It came down to less than four billion people. The planet Earth could bear the devastation no longer. The inevitable occurred; planet Earth was fighting back and the Apocalypse was initiated. The earthquakes that started with Aceh Indonesia which caused a mega tsunami was just the beginning. The earth was going through a massive platonic movement. This started since the beginning of ages, during the epoch of dinosaurs, when the entire mass of land was merely a single continent, also known as the Pangaea.
By the year 2019, the earthquakes became more prominent in many parts of the world. Graphs on the Richter scales were tipped, achieving an average magnitude of 9.5. Continents were shattered, sandwiched, and combined. It became more evident that all the land masses in the planet were merging with each other. No one actually knew about this occurrence. There was only the shallow knowledge that earthquakes were occurring amidst the World War. Ignorance was due to the satellites being abandoned in outer space, without operation.
Not long after, the polar ice caps started melting. There was tremendous accumulation of heat in the atmosphere. Massive flooding occurred everywhere. Small pieces of land was consumed by water and the new Pangaea formed though platonic movement was flooded at all boundaries. Soon, there were no more countries, the population was then cut down to an insignificant amount of approximately 2 million.
The earth’s plates stopped moving, the flooding stopped and the World War Three was a lost cause. By 2024, the Apocalypse was over. The Apocalypse was the ultimate phenomenon that almost wiped out the entire human race. All was silent. All that was left was two million people on a giant mass of land. It was like stone age all over again. The Apocalypse, John thought, it was as though God’s hands were protecting him. John was one of the survivors from the Apocalypse. He is still haunted by his past, living with the question of his parents. Did they survive? Where could they be? A burst of anger erupted within him. If the Seraphim never did started their “Holy War” so to speak; none of this would have occurred - the Apocalypse would not achieve such a degree of devastation. He would not have been detached from his parents. John vowed to himself the day he was separated from his parents, that he will, in best of endeavour, assist in the reconstruction of the Earth.
“And that is just what I am going to continue doing. To heal the Earth.” He promised. Then wiping a single tear from his cheeks, he walked away silently.
***
The sun was already setting, casting a sinister glow of red on the walls of Transcend Diner. It was already seven in the evening and these warm beams penetrated the windows where Eleanor stood. Eleanor was at the end of her shift, dealing with the last few beverages that she was assigned to complete. She threw a hurried glance at her chronometer – 1904, it read. She cautiously let the saucer touch the counter and took the stairs to her miniature room upstairs. Her blond hair shifted swiftly as Eleanor turned to look at the mess she made from the clothes jammed halfway into her travelling bag. She sighed, arms akimbo. She picked up what was inside and left out what was outside, zipped it noisily and stumbled downstairs. Eleanor made a phone call to John’s mobile earlier and he was arriving soon.
The rumblings of a car rattled the grills of Transcend Diner. John arrived. Punctually. Eleanor grinned to herself in the car. “People like you ... they are usually bad time keepers.”
John smiled decently, then he spoke up for the first time in the car, “Well, at least I keep my watch working, that’s why.”
The car sped off to the highway towards the outskirts of Region Seven, where more trees covered acres of land. He approached the same automatic gate earlier on as the sentry guns geared their movement towards the car. John was bringing her to his home.
Eleanor got out of the car once it stopped and she frowned heavily. “Just because we had a little talk between you and me this morning, it doesn’t meant there’s something going on between us.” She said.
“I never had such notions in mind, young miss. You needed a place to stay. I have twenty five rooms in my house and even I can bi-locate myself, I can’t stay in all these rooms can’t I? Now, don’t hesitate and lets go in. The butler’s got dinner waiting.” John stuck her with infallible reasoning and she kept quiet, to concede and both walked into the dining room.
They were both seated at the dining table, filled with a small array of food.
“The Seraphim organisation. It’s intriguing. During my time – well, which is your time too, they were sort of like heroes, that was what we heard. During the days in the bunker, there was not much news about the happening above. All we knew was the Apocalypse was happening. Now, the Seraphim seems to be like rogues. What really happened to them – who are they?”
“Don’t be fooled Ellen. I was one of the few who lived with the Apocalypse instead of living through the Apocalypse. The Seraphim never did change. They were and always are rogues. Of course, during the Reconstruction, they stayed dormant because their numbers had dropped. You never did know how it was to live through the Apocalypse; scavenging, running to live. The Seraphim knew nothing of cleansing the earth. They were killing more people through their stupid ‘Holy War’ against the nuclear powers. Now, they have returned, finding their strength in numbers. God knows what they’ll do next. Bring the invasion of the aquatilisaraneus grandis? I’ll be damned. Their network is one hell of a large one to infiltrate.” He paused, taking a sip of well-aged Pinot Noir. “That would be the only reason why I am constantly trying to get the police to concentrate their forces on the Seraphim. The Seraphim is led by six leaders, called the Seraphim Elites. Get all of them, and you’ll get to the guy above all of them, shut his ass down and Seraphim will be dead.” he stopped, again pausing to nose the glass of wine. It was a perfect blend of fruity flavour.
“That would of course be not as easy as it sounds. With their people crawling all over, it would be difficult. Get one of them and the rest of the gang would take chase after your family and friend’s lives.” Eleanor spoke up.
“That won’t be too easy either. Especially when I do not have any friends, nor do I have any relatives. They are all dead from the Apocalypse.” John smirked, as thought it was not a big issue to contend with.
“Oh. I’m sorry. I guess I shouldn’t have venture into that area of discussion. I...”
“Well, it’s a good thing they’re dead. I could have more than enough good reason to take the members of the Seraphim into custody. I’ve got the law, and I’ve got no one to protect. That makes my job easier to accomplish.”
“You’re a crazy person. That is the only explanation to how you got your ‘Lord’ title.” She joked.
“Well, not exactly. I was just one of the few who were involved in the reconstruction. While the people stayed in the bunkers, after the Apocalypse, a group of people decided to recreate a government system, a government that was controlled by the police to ensure security, which of course is a greatly flawed system now. Since the entire masses of land had been integrated through the earth’s platonic movement, the government divided the whole land mass into segments and called it Regions. In all, like what we have today, are seven Regions and Region Seven is the only most developed part of the world. All our forces were concentrated into rebuilding the world and we started with Region Seven which was inadvertently caused to become the mid-land regions, where it was far from the sea. Generally, it was the much safer option to rebuild the city away from the mutated spiders or aqua-spiders which are made from the result of the radioactive leak. They were apparently able to withstand the radioactive poisons but they sooner developed a much bigger appetite than rats and small insects. Aquatilisaraneus grandis. There’s a reason why we called it by that name. In Latin, it basically means a spider that is massive in size and lives in the water. Of course, our population had decreased much more than before, so we do not occupy much land. The coasts however, are constantly unpopulated due to these five feet spiders. That is the only reason explicable that Region One, Region Two and Region Three, which all engirdle this entire landmass is still under the governmental lockdown.” John paused again. He felt like he just gave a speech in the local college’s lecture hall.
Eleanor, however was impressed with John’s knowledge. She was in awe, that he was one of the few who could be audacious enough to get into the open for the rebuilding of the earth. He was still in his late teenage years when he was already capable of undertaking such feats. Her impertinence of the police force suddenly dissolved in that dinner. Eleanor smiled to herself, watching John dive into his mountain load of spaghetti. John looked up, staring past his forkful of spaghetti noodles, seeing her smile.
“By the way, how old are you?” he asked cheekily, knowing well, that it was a sensitive question to women.
“I’m twenty eight. How old are you?” she blushed pink.
“Funny, I’m five years younger than you.”
“And that makes me?”
“Older than me – old, you’re getting old, and soon senile.” He mocked.
“Hey! Careful! I’m holding a fork and I might throw that at you!” she played along. Both laughed heartily.
The plate of spaghetti and meatballs were quickly devoured by John. He had an appetite and wasn’t the slightest bit embarrassed about it.
“Alright. Since you’re done, I’ll lead you to your room. I need to warn you though, it’s very cosy, if you do not decide to sleep yet, blast the stereos there. You can pay for my lodgings for 20 Units a month.”
She grinned in acknowledgement, as he carried her luggage across the dining room to the stairs in the lobby, leading to a narrow corridor. He led her to one of the rooms there. As he forewarned, it was tremendously cosy, a soft bed with a freshly crackling fireplace and a dimmed ambiance. One word. Suite.
Eleanor was in incredulity. She had never did been in such a lavish place, let alone sleep there. She frowned, then with her famous arms akimbo she turned towards John.
“What do you want from me? I don’t know what is up but, such affordable pricing for such a place? Well, if you’re thinking about sleeping with me, you can kiss that idea goodbye.”
John maintained his smile throughout, he replied softly, “Well, if that is what you think then that is fine with me. You may be a very attractive lady standing next to me, but I am not thinking of being a fool to make use of you or your body or whatever you think of. If you haven’t yet realised; there’s still good people in this corrupting world. Make today, make me an epiphany for your thought.”
Eleanor stood there dumbfounded, unable to argue. He was simply just too kind or he was a remarkable conman.
“Alright. You’re right this time; perhaps I should stop being so critical of you police guys. That is what my problem is.”
A sudden cold feeling ran up her spine. “John, what happens if that grim-reaper comes here? I just realised that that cop killer is still on the loose.”
“Now, don’t you worry. Did you not remember this morning I told you that I have four Sentinels guarding my house? They will keep this house and its occupants out of harm, you understand?”
“But I did not see any of them in your precincts just now.” Eleanor said, her voice slightly shaking.
“You don’t trust me?” he said.
“I do, but it’s just that if they ever come for you – or even me, I don’t know what to do.”
He brought her into the bedroom, then bending near the bed stand, he pulled out a fully automatic shotgun from under the bed. It was big, and psychologically, made the person that wielded it feel safe.
“Do you know how to use a gun?” he asked.
“Yes, but ...”
“Trust in yourself, and the gun. Do not fear the grim-reaper. He is just but a human, like you. Don’t be fooled by the media. He is a human.” He reaffirmed his point to her. Eleanor caressed the shotgun.
“We’ll see about that. It’s a little hard to regret later once I’m dead. Looks like I have to pump some lead into this little bastard before he reaches me.”
“By the way,” he threw her a key. It is the key to one of his cars.
“Goodnight then.”
“Goodnight”
She shut the door and locked it, then she turned towards the windows. It was sealed shut. With the slight buzzing sound of the sentry guns, securing the window area. Eleanor then returned to her bag of clothes. It was a mess. Nightdress. She left her nightdress at home. Damn it, she thought. Curious, she walked towards the wardrobe and opened it. There was a nightdress there, a few set of clothes and a bathrobe. “He just seems to be precognitive doesn’t he? I’ll be damned. First the waiter this morning, now this.” She smiled to herself, deep in thought. Then she walked towards the bathroom, took one last bath and went to a peaceful night’s slumber.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Th Last Decree of Honour: Prologue
___________________
PROLOGUE
____________________
ZONE: 22 ALLEYROAD
CHRONOMETER: 2200 HOURS LOCAL TIME
Alleyroad stands in the midnight glow of the city; silent, quiet as always. It was as though it harmonises with the illegal trade occurring down there. The hissing of steam pipes and ventilation vents are simply adequate to contain the vocal transmittance from the ears of the righteous. Dark and dank, only few knew what was going on there; almost no one travels to these alleys at this point of the night.
It is such a paradox that the alley was actually the road behind the largest police plaza in the city of Region Seven. Also known as the Regional Police Metroquarters, it stands 62 stories high. It is not a surprise to the citizens if this scenario is reported. Who reports the wrongdoings of the police these days? The papers are paid for their suppressed silence, the media greatly controlled by the police. An irony; the police themselves play ignorant to a massive gridiron of delinquent criminals the Seraphim . As impartiality lies comatose in the morally decadent city, the sorry state of the country continues to rot.
Two brusquely-looking men sat at their plastic chairs respectively in the dirty alley of 22 Alleyroad. There were a few packets of white powder on the table, lined neatly, contradicting their behaviour. It was Trixate. An anti-depressant used by many drug addicts these days. Its main selling point is that it comes cheap, 20 Units per kilogram. The dim lights covered their grim faces as customers approach; a group of three teenagers in baggy jeans and rocker T-shirts. One of the two men pulled out two 9mm automatic pistols.
“Don’t sweat it Mike, it’s just kids. Your first time on the job eh buddy?” one said.
“Just in case.” The other replied, rather monotonously.
The three teens closed in on the table.
“How much will it be boys?” one of the men at the table asked.
“Three packets ‘ll do matey. Now whats with those guns huh? We’re just doing business as we always do. I’ve got my clients, you’ve got your job to keep. No scuffle and lets be done with it okay?”
The man named Mike just smiled sinisterly. He took three packets and handed it over to the boys. “It will be 130 Units for today,” he snorted.
One of them grabbed the bag and another boy handed the notes to Mike. Business was done and transaction was made fast, just the situation what was wanted. Everyone wanted to get home safe without getting lead bullets in their skulls. The teenagers walked off with their purchase and hurried across to the other side of town.
“Didn’t I tell you Mike? It’s just business as usual. No shooting needed.” one said.
“I said – it was just a precaution you numbskull. All I want to do is get the stuff over to the man and be done with this job, alright Joe?” Mike hissed.
“Take it out, let me see if it’s all right.”
Mike reluctantly dragged a wooden box underneath their table. It was heavy – very heavy. It was a horrendously heavy metal plating.
“What in the Jeebus name is that for?”
“I don’t know, but it sure is thicker than your numbskull.”
Both of them laughed heartily before being stopped by the blue-red lights of the MetroPolice Mobile.
“Shit! I thought they never patrolled this area?”
“Hush. I dunno what this freaks might be up to.”
The vehicle approached closer and two uniformed MetroPolice stepped out. Their uniform was the MK13 Standard Assault Suit. Every cop wears the MK13 these days. It is made from a rigid material fashioned out of carbon nanotubes, but thinner and lighter than the standard Kevlar bullet-proofed vests. This one instead was an entire suit itself though certain parts are not bullet proofed to capacitate free-movement along the body’s joints. It nevertheless proves to bring fear to the public, signifying an invulnerability in the MetroPolice force – just like the fear the thugs at the table felt right at this moment.
Both of them were carrying a 12-gauge semiautomatic pump-action firing riot gun and they approached nonchalantly towards the pathetic thugs.
“We’ve arrived for the delivery item you have there.” one of them said and he gestured with his shotgun to the wooden box under the table menacingly while the other cop held the double barrels facing Mike. Joe was in cold sweat but Mike had a defiant disposition locked onto his face. Nevertheless, he pulled out the box.
“Are you the guy we need to give the box to or are you trying to be an idiot to take this metal junk away from us? It’s the Seraphim group who gave this to us.” Mike said.
“Look here rat. I’m the guy the this Seraphim blokes are supposed to deliver this to. You’ve got a problem, I can shove this stick up your smelly asses and blow your brains to kingdom come.” The police officer replied ominously.
“Look here man, I’m just freakin’ verifying. That’s all. You can take that box now, pay us and get out of our faces.” Mike retorted.
“Alright then. Lets be done with this.” The other officer replied, speaking for the first time.
Both the officers dragged the wooden box and fitted it into the MetroPolice Mobile and started off.
“Hey! Where’s our 5000 Units?” Mike shouted his top.
The menacing officer pumped his shotgun and walked out of the car again.
“Sorry mate. Here’s your pay.” And with that a thunderous shot was released, the feet of Mike in a bloody mess. He shouted in agony as he bled profusely from his mashed leg.
“Ah, you’re welcome.” The officer replied and walked off to his car.
Joe, entirely shaken tried to mollify Mike, “Hey, mate, you okay? Does it hurt?”
“What does it look like, huh?”
Mike swore silently.
Meanwhile as chaos broke down in the small alley, a tall, dark figure stood above at the rooftop of one of the fraying closely-connected buildings opposite the Regional Police Metroquarters. His eyes was green and was staring right down at the MetroPolice Mobile as it rolled away from the scene. It went opposite the way it came from – out of the alley. The figure slid his long left sleeve from his hand, revealing a small, flat panel on the top side of his arm just above the wrists. He waited, soundless like a grim substance of death. Just as the automobile was about to exit the alley the dark figure depressed two buttons on the panel.
There was a small explosion and the horrible sound of metal screaming against the tarred road. The rear wheels were completely damaged, its suspension splintered from the force against it. The vehicle had turned on its side from the blast. It was immobile and the two cops clawed their way out of the wrecked vehicle. The figure darted away from his hiding position and above the buildings towards the car. It appeared as though he was gliding. Against the dark skies, he was invisible to the prying eyes of others.
He was vertically above the two MetroPolice officers, 6 stories above. Then he took a leap an landed right on one leg and the other knee grounded with his right hand flat on the ground for balance. He straightened up. He was standing right in front of the two officers. They could clearly see him now. The figure looked like a grim reaper. He had a macabre-looking black cloak encompassing the entire person inside it and a hood covering most of his face. The green glow from his eyes are already dissolved. There was only blackness inside the hood.
The atmosphere was tense, so tense it could be sliced with a knife. The grim reaper figure nonetheless stood still, unmoving, unspeaking. Infuriated, one of the police officer pumped his shotgun and aimed at the grim reaper figure. As his finger retracted to pull the trigger, the grim reaper figure’s leg swung right out of the cloak in front of them. It swept the shotgun to the ground just as he fired the shot, missing the target loosely. While he was clutching his hand in pain from the kick the other officer pulled out a 9mm semi automatic pistol. Too tardy. The figure’s right hand hammered into the officer’s solar plexus and he dropped to his knees grasping his chest for air as the figure dealt another blow to the first assailant, his heels landing hard on his kneecaps, dislocating it permanently. He fell to the ground helpless. But the figure was callous. His right hand emerged from behind his cloak again and grabbed the kneeling man at the neck, carrying him up then he threw him to the wall, making him stand, forcibly. The hand revealed a metal gauntlet it extended beyond his elbow, ending in a sharp wedge.
Their rage transitioned hurriedly into fear. It was clearly shown on their battered faces.
“What d..do you want ?” the one on the ground asked.
“What were you transporting?” the figure spoke for the first time. His voice was inhuman. It was a deep-metal sounding and hollow voice. It sounded pitiless and horrifying but accompanied the outfit very well.
“It’s a metal plating!”
“For what?”
“I can’t tell you you bitch! I’ll lose my job. What kind of costume freak are you?”
For a moment they got their courage back. One of them punched the figure hard in the face. He staggered back for a moment. The other officer reached for his shotgun, but the figure drew a double-edged knife and swung it hard into the officer’s wrist, cutting the bone halfway. The knife stuck horribly into the bone. The figure depressed a button on his hand-panel again and the knife exploded with the officer’s hand.
Another shot rang out in the night. It was a 9mm bullet fired into the figure’s back. He bent over, but it was not the result of pain. His leg shot out like a gun to execute a back leg thrust kick on the other man’s crotch. As the officer doubled over, he drew another knife from inside his cloak and sliced the neck of the officer. Another swing sliced the other officer’s neck, right though the vocal chords. Both fell – as dead bodies as blood gushed freely out of their necks.
“Looks like your bullet-resistant suits are not defensive against melee strikes. I wouldn’t have to kill you if you hadn’t tried to do the same to me.” He gestured a finger, pointing at the bodies as though they were still alive. He looked at his Chronometer on the hand panel. It was already 0143 hours the next day.
Meanwhile, the two drug-dealers earlier on were astounded from what just occurred before their eyes. They had been looking ever since the explosion wrecked the MetroPolice Mobile. The guy that wrecked it had to be smart, they thought. Those MetroPolice Mobiles were bullet resistant. He hit the weak spot instead; the wheels. Even Mike’s pain in his bloodied leg seem to have dissolved with the adrenaline of the excitement. They cheered at the two officer’s death.
He sauntered toward them slowly, as though savouring the moment of the two deaths.
“Hey! You’re the Seraphim Elite aren’t you?” Mike, always the bold one said, but rather welcomingly this time.
“No, I’m not.” The figure replied, rather monotonously with the same voice. Their smiles fade. He drew out another two knifes. This time, their smiles were entirely gone and their face, a picture of revulsion. But the knifes’ sharpened blades did not meet with their body. He shoved it instead into the wall of the Regional Police Metroquarters.
They were puzzled by his actions. The wall where he stuck the knifes into was actually the wall of the Metroquarters armoury room. He made no intention of proceeding further, this made the two drug-dealers fear no longer.
“Don’t worry. I mean no harm to you.” The voice reverberated from the blackness of his hood. He continued, “In fact, I need an army. And I’m recruiting now. Don’t forget, I’m paying you to work for me.”
They were astonished.
“All I just need to know is how the metal plating was sent to you and who sent it.”
“Well, I accept you invitation as a member of your Halloween party mate. But if you want us to give information, you’ll have to ensure we have protection. After all, we’re dealing with the Seraphim vigilantes.”
“Agreed”
“We too are Seraphims you see, but just the lower level of the organisation. We are supposed to wait here at eleven at night to send this to someone. A person will drive his pickup truck into this alley to give us the metal plating. He’s a Seraphim Elite however and he will be making trips here to keep giving us the stuff. He will even be coming tonight.” Mike spat out everything willingly, still clutching his bloody leg, but the pain had subsided; he used the Triaxate.
“Thanks for the information.” The figure said. But it didn’t stop there. His right hand smashed Mike’s head into the wall, breaking the skull from the immense force. His right elbow then strike hard backwards into Joe’s heart, the elbow wedge piercing the right atrium through the ribs. Both drug dealers collapsed, unmoving, dead.
“A brief moment of silence. How peaceful.” The man inside the hood smiled cynically to himself and walked away, silently.
That figure, whatever is was, was a killing machine, it was unstoppable and it felt no remorse.
PROLOGUE
____________________
ZONE: 22 ALLEYROAD
CHRONOMETER: 2200 HOURS LOCAL TIME
Alleyroad stands in the midnight glow of the city; silent, quiet as always. It was as though it harmonises with the illegal trade occurring down there. The hissing of steam pipes and ventilation vents are simply adequate to contain the vocal transmittance from the ears of the righteous. Dark and dank, only few knew what was going on there; almost no one travels to these alleys at this point of the night.
It is such a paradox that the alley was actually the road behind the largest police plaza in the city of Region Seven. Also known as the Regional Police Metroquarters, it stands 62 stories high. It is not a surprise to the citizens if this scenario is reported. Who reports the wrongdoings of the police these days? The papers are paid for their suppressed silence, the media greatly controlled by the police. An irony; the police themselves play ignorant to a massive gridiron of delinquent criminals the Seraphim . As impartiality lies comatose in the morally decadent city, the sorry state of the country continues to rot.
Two brusquely-looking men sat at their plastic chairs respectively in the dirty alley of 22 Alleyroad. There were a few packets of white powder on the table, lined neatly, contradicting their behaviour. It was Trixate. An anti-depressant used by many drug addicts these days. Its main selling point is that it comes cheap, 20 Units per kilogram. The dim lights covered their grim faces as customers approach; a group of three teenagers in baggy jeans and rocker T-shirts. One of the two men pulled out two 9mm automatic pistols.
“Don’t sweat it Mike, it’s just kids. Your first time on the job eh buddy?” one said.
“Just in case.” The other replied, rather monotonously.
The three teens closed in on the table.
“How much will it be boys?” one of the men at the table asked.
“Three packets ‘ll do matey. Now whats with those guns huh? We’re just doing business as we always do. I’ve got my clients, you’ve got your job to keep. No scuffle and lets be done with it okay?”
The man named Mike just smiled sinisterly. He took three packets and handed it over to the boys. “It will be 130 Units for today,” he snorted.
One of them grabbed the bag and another boy handed the notes to Mike. Business was done and transaction was made fast, just the situation what was wanted. Everyone wanted to get home safe without getting lead bullets in their skulls. The teenagers walked off with their purchase and hurried across to the other side of town.
“Didn’t I tell you Mike? It’s just business as usual. No shooting needed.” one said.
“I said – it was just a precaution you numbskull. All I want to do is get the stuff over to the man and be done with this job, alright Joe?” Mike hissed.
“Take it out, let me see if it’s all right.”
Mike reluctantly dragged a wooden box underneath their table. It was heavy – very heavy. It was a horrendously heavy metal plating.
“What in the Jeebus name is that for?”
“I don’t know, but it sure is thicker than your numbskull.”
Both of them laughed heartily before being stopped by the blue-red lights of the MetroPolice Mobile.
“Shit! I thought they never patrolled this area?”
“Hush. I dunno what this freaks might be up to.”
The vehicle approached closer and two uniformed MetroPolice stepped out. Their uniform was the MK13 Standard Assault Suit. Every cop wears the MK13 these days. It is made from a rigid material fashioned out of carbon nanotubes, but thinner and lighter than the standard Kevlar bullet-proofed vests. This one instead was an entire suit itself though certain parts are not bullet proofed to capacitate free-movement along the body’s joints. It nevertheless proves to bring fear to the public, signifying an invulnerability in the MetroPolice force – just like the fear the thugs at the table felt right at this moment.
Both of them were carrying a 12-gauge semiautomatic pump-action firing riot gun and they approached nonchalantly towards the pathetic thugs.
“We’ve arrived for the delivery item you have there.” one of them said and he gestured with his shotgun to the wooden box under the table menacingly while the other cop held the double barrels facing Mike. Joe was in cold sweat but Mike had a defiant disposition locked onto his face. Nevertheless, he pulled out the box.
“Are you the guy we need to give the box to or are you trying to be an idiot to take this metal junk away from us? It’s the Seraphim group who gave this to us.” Mike said.
“Look here rat. I’m the guy the this Seraphim blokes are supposed to deliver this to. You’ve got a problem, I can shove this stick up your smelly asses and blow your brains to kingdom come.” The police officer replied ominously.
“Look here man, I’m just freakin’ verifying. That’s all. You can take that box now, pay us and get out of our faces.” Mike retorted.
“Alright then. Lets be done with this.” The other officer replied, speaking for the first time.
Both the officers dragged the wooden box and fitted it into the MetroPolice Mobile and started off.
“Hey! Where’s our 5000 Units?” Mike shouted his top.
The menacing officer pumped his shotgun and walked out of the car again.
“Sorry mate. Here’s your pay.” And with that a thunderous shot was released, the feet of Mike in a bloody mess. He shouted in agony as he bled profusely from his mashed leg.
“Ah, you’re welcome.” The officer replied and walked off to his car.
Joe, entirely shaken tried to mollify Mike, “Hey, mate, you okay? Does it hurt?”
“What does it look like, huh?”
Mike swore silently.
Meanwhile as chaos broke down in the small alley, a tall, dark figure stood above at the rooftop of one of the fraying closely-connected buildings opposite the Regional Police Metroquarters. His eyes was green and was staring right down at the MetroPolice Mobile as it rolled away from the scene. It went opposite the way it came from – out of the alley. The figure slid his long left sleeve from his hand, revealing a small, flat panel on the top side of his arm just above the wrists. He waited, soundless like a grim substance of death. Just as the automobile was about to exit the alley the dark figure depressed two buttons on the panel.
There was a small explosion and the horrible sound of metal screaming against the tarred road. The rear wheels were completely damaged, its suspension splintered from the force against it. The vehicle had turned on its side from the blast. It was immobile and the two cops clawed their way out of the wrecked vehicle. The figure darted away from his hiding position and above the buildings towards the car. It appeared as though he was gliding. Against the dark skies, he was invisible to the prying eyes of others.
He was vertically above the two MetroPolice officers, 6 stories above. Then he took a leap an landed right on one leg and the other knee grounded with his right hand flat on the ground for balance. He straightened up. He was standing right in front of the two officers. They could clearly see him now. The figure looked like a grim reaper. He had a macabre-looking black cloak encompassing the entire person inside it and a hood covering most of his face. The green glow from his eyes are already dissolved. There was only blackness inside the hood.
The atmosphere was tense, so tense it could be sliced with a knife. The grim reaper figure nonetheless stood still, unmoving, unspeaking. Infuriated, one of the police officer pumped his shotgun and aimed at the grim reaper figure. As his finger retracted to pull the trigger, the grim reaper figure’s leg swung right out of the cloak in front of them. It swept the shotgun to the ground just as he fired the shot, missing the target loosely. While he was clutching his hand in pain from the kick the other officer pulled out a 9mm semi automatic pistol. Too tardy. The figure’s right hand hammered into the officer’s solar plexus and he dropped to his knees grasping his chest for air as the figure dealt another blow to the first assailant, his heels landing hard on his kneecaps, dislocating it permanently. He fell to the ground helpless. But the figure was callous. His right hand emerged from behind his cloak again and grabbed the kneeling man at the neck, carrying him up then he threw him to the wall, making him stand, forcibly. The hand revealed a metal gauntlet it extended beyond his elbow, ending in a sharp wedge.
Their rage transitioned hurriedly into fear. It was clearly shown on their battered faces.
“What d..do you want ?” the one on the ground asked.
“What were you transporting?” the figure spoke for the first time. His voice was inhuman. It was a deep-metal sounding and hollow voice. It sounded pitiless and horrifying but accompanied the outfit very well.
“It’s a metal plating!”
“For what?”
“I can’t tell you you bitch! I’ll lose my job. What kind of costume freak are you?”
For a moment they got their courage back. One of them punched the figure hard in the face. He staggered back for a moment. The other officer reached for his shotgun, but the figure drew a double-edged knife and swung it hard into the officer’s wrist, cutting the bone halfway. The knife stuck horribly into the bone. The figure depressed a button on his hand-panel again and the knife exploded with the officer’s hand.
Another shot rang out in the night. It was a 9mm bullet fired into the figure’s back. He bent over, but it was not the result of pain. His leg shot out like a gun to execute a back leg thrust kick on the other man’s crotch. As the officer doubled over, he drew another knife from inside his cloak and sliced the neck of the officer. Another swing sliced the other officer’s neck, right though the vocal chords. Both fell – as dead bodies as blood gushed freely out of their necks.
“Looks like your bullet-resistant suits are not defensive against melee strikes. I wouldn’t have to kill you if you hadn’t tried to do the same to me.” He gestured a finger, pointing at the bodies as though they were still alive. He looked at his Chronometer on the hand panel. It was already 0143 hours the next day.
Meanwhile, the two drug-dealers earlier on were astounded from what just occurred before their eyes. They had been looking ever since the explosion wrecked the MetroPolice Mobile. The guy that wrecked it had to be smart, they thought. Those MetroPolice Mobiles were bullet resistant. He hit the weak spot instead; the wheels. Even Mike’s pain in his bloodied leg seem to have dissolved with the adrenaline of the excitement. They cheered at the two officer’s death.
He sauntered toward them slowly, as though savouring the moment of the two deaths.
“Hey! You’re the Seraphim Elite aren’t you?” Mike, always the bold one said, but rather welcomingly this time.
“No, I’m not.” The figure replied, rather monotonously with the same voice. Their smiles fade. He drew out another two knifes. This time, their smiles were entirely gone and their face, a picture of revulsion. But the knifes’ sharpened blades did not meet with their body. He shoved it instead into the wall of the Regional Police Metroquarters.
They were puzzled by his actions. The wall where he stuck the knifes into was actually the wall of the Metroquarters armoury room. He made no intention of proceeding further, this made the two drug-dealers fear no longer.
“Don’t worry. I mean no harm to you.” The voice reverberated from the blackness of his hood. He continued, “In fact, I need an army. And I’m recruiting now. Don’t forget, I’m paying you to work for me.”
They were astonished.
“All I just need to know is how the metal plating was sent to you and who sent it.”
“Well, I accept you invitation as a member of your Halloween party mate. But if you want us to give information, you’ll have to ensure we have protection. After all, we’re dealing with the Seraphim vigilantes.”
“Agreed”
“We too are Seraphims you see, but just the lower level of the organisation. We are supposed to wait here at eleven at night to send this to someone. A person will drive his pickup truck into this alley to give us the metal plating. He’s a Seraphim Elite however and he will be making trips here to keep giving us the stuff. He will even be coming tonight.” Mike spat out everything willingly, still clutching his bloody leg, but the pain had subsided; he used the Triaxate.
“Thanks for the information.” The figure said. But it didn’t stop there. His right hand smashed Mike’s head into the wall, breaking the skull from the immense force. His right elbow then strike hard backwards into Joe’s heart, the elbow wedge piercing the right atrium through the ribs. Both drug dealers collapsed, unmoving, dead.
“A brief moment of silence. How peaceful.” The man inside the hood smiled cynically to himself and walked away, silently.
That figure, whatever is was, was a killing machine, it was unstoppable and it felt no remorse.
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